


Unbreakable

by kiyala



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney, Inception (2010)
Genre: Charity Auctions, Community: help_nz, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite Kristoph Gavin being locked away for his crimes, Phoenix Wright cannot rest until he unlocks the secrets he'd come across during his investigations. He hires Dom Cobb and his team of extractors to get the truth that his magatama can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbreakable

**Author's Note:**

> This is an overdue fic for cosmiko_ling, for help_nz.
> 
> Note: Contains spoilers for Apollo Justice (and one spoiler for Trials & Tribulations)

It’s been three weeks since the trial of Kristoph Gavin. Perhaps _State v. Misham_ had been the first trial under the Jurist system, but _State v. Gavin_ is the one that gains the attention. It had, predictably, ended in Kristoph being found guilty and perhaps the papers and news readers are all calling it a great victory for the legal system, but the true victor is somebody else; somebody far more specific.

Phoenix Wright, for somebody who has won perhaps the longest, most difficult battle of his life, does not feel particularly victorious. He had, on the day of Kristoph’s trial, but it had faded quickly, leading to this instead. _Ennui_ ; a fog settling around him, not even lifting after the return of his attorney’s badge. It sits there, a dead weight on the lapel of his old blue suit, and business continues as usual. Trucy goes to school, Apollo works out of the offices of the Wright Anything Agency—now renamed to the Wright & Co. Law Offices once again—and when Phoenix is not spending time at the office or at home, he passes it playing bad piano and good poker.

Edgeworth isn’t happy. Phoenix has known this since the first day he’d gone back to the Borscht Bowl Club, but Edgeworth is busy in his new position as Professor of Criminal Law at Ivy University, and Phoenix is not ashamed to take advantage of this fact to worm his way out of conversations he isn’t sure he wants to have. Unfortunately, there is one place Phoenix cannot escape Edgeworth, and that is in bed.

“Phoenix,” Edgeworth pins him down to the mattress. He looks much leaner when he’s out of his suit, but there’s enough strength in his arms to keep Phoenix down. “You’re going to talk to me.”

Phoenix sighs, raising an eyebrow at his lover, surrendering wordlessly.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Edgeworth is kneeling over him, but instead of the usual thrum of desire that runs through him, he feels nothing but weariness. It must show in his expression, because Edgeworth’s grip on his wrists tightens. His tone is sharp, the way it once was in court. “You know that I’ve noticed, so just tell me. I thought you’d be happy once Kristoph Gavin was thrown in prison. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Phoenix sighs, looking at the ceiling, not meeting Edgeworth’s eyes. “I thought it was.”

“But?” Edgeworth presses, insistent as always.

“I don’t know, Miles.” Phoenix turns onto his side and Edgeworth’s grip on him loosens, letting him go so they’re lying facing each other. “It’s just something I saw when I was investigating.”

“Using Ema’s… hidden camera,” Edgeworth’s mouth twists when he says it, still not comfortable with the way in which Phoenix had gathered his evidence, incriminating as it had been.

“Using my magatama,” Phoenix says, frowning as if he can visualise the unbreakable locks he’d seen. “I saw something I don’t understand. Unanswered questions.”

“You’re talking about those psycholocks.” Edgeworth sits up, his frown matching Phoenix’s.

“You’ve seen what they usually look like,” Phoenix pauses just long enough for Edgeworth to nod before continuing, “The ones I saw on Kristoph were totally different. Black and… _sinister_.”

“They’re just locks,” Edgeworth snorts softly, but his tone is hesitant and his tentative smile slips away when Phoenix’s expression says that he disagrees.

“They’re _secrets_ , Miles. Every single one of them. There were five, and that was just when I questioned him about murdering Zak. Who knows how many more there are?”

“What does it matter?” Edgeworth’s tone is gentle, and he strokes Phoenix’s hair, fingers scratching lightly against his scalp. “Kristoph Gavin is in prison for murder. You’ve achieved what you’ve set out to do. That’s enough—it was _more_ than enough of a challenge.”

Phoenix closes his eyes, turning his face into Edgeworth’s hand and trying to believe his lover’s words. Without Edgeworth, he would still be floundering, looking for a way to make his evidence matter. Edgeworth, who returned home from Germany, returned to Phoenix and decided to stay, had helped develop the MASON system, had pushed the idea for the Jurist system, and _Edgeworth_ is the reason Phoenix has his attorney’s badge once again. He wants Edgeworth to be right. This should be enough, but he knows it’s not.

“There are so many questions left unanswered, Miles. Don’t tell me you’d be happy to leave them alone if you were in my place.”

Wrapping an arm around Phoenix, Edgeworth sighs quietly. “I’m trying to tell you that some questions are better left unanswered. Gavin is _evil_ , we both know that. Digging deeper isn’t going to reveal anything pleasant. Besides, he’s in maximum security now and even if you wanted information, I doubt he’d give it to you.”

“There is a way,” Phoenix says, thoughtful. He rubs his chin and glances at Edgeworth, “What do you know about dream extraction?”

Edgeworth stiffens immediately. His eyebrows draw together and he’s silent for a long moment before he says, very carefully, “I’ve heard of it. Sometimes, the police force uses it to assist investigations, but it’s highly uncommon. The entire process itself necessitates the subject to be entirely unaware. It’s an invasion of privacy. A violation of ethics—”

“I want to extract Kristoph’s secrets,” Phoenix says simply. “I want to know what he’s got locked away. I want to know everything.”

“Phoenix, if those locks are bothering you so much, perhaps Maya could help.”

“I already talked to her about them,” Phoenix says and Edgeworth tries to ignore the sharp mix of hurt and jealousy that he’d gone to Maya first. Phoenix seems to notice it, because he rubs Edgeworth’s arm as he adds, “She’d never heard of them before. Miles, if the Master of Kurain hasn’t heard of these black locks…”

“All the more reason to leave them alone, because you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Edgeworth interrupts. “Please, Phoenix. I have a bad feeling about this, is there any way I can talk you out of it?”

“There isn’t,” Phoenix kisses Edgeworth’s shoulder in apology and grins. “Trust me. I know how much it costs to hire an extractor. I wouldn’t be spending my life’s savings unless I was sure.”

“I’m not letting you do that,” Edgeworth says sharply. His eyebrows are drawn together and his tone leaves no room for argument. He continues before Phoenix can protest, “If you’re doing this, you’re doing it _properly_. You’re hiring the best and from what I’ve heard, they charge far more than you can afford. _I’m_ hiring them, if you promise that after this, we’ll just put everything behind us. You’ve got your badge back, and we’ll move on, so that Kristoph Gavin is nothing more than a faded memory.”

Phoenix stares at Edgeworth silently for a long moment before finally saying, “Can I promise that?”

“You could, for me. Lie if you need to, Phoenix, I just want you back.”

Phoenix snorts quietly and turns onto his side, pressing a kiss to Edgeworth’s forehead. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Edgeworth simply gives him a sad smile. “Promise me.”

The amusement slips from Phoenix’s expression and when he presses his lips to his lover’s, it’s a reassurance and apology at once. “I promise. I’ll get my answers, and then I’ll let this all go.”

Edgeworth smiles, struggling to remember not to celebrate too soon. “Thank you, Phoenix.”

 

•

 

Arthur is cleaning up the apartment he never lives in when his phone starts ringing, the sound of his _this-is-urgent_ ring tone bouncing off the walls and making him drop his broom in alarm. He scrambles for his phone, but he gets as far as his bedroom when he realises that there’s only one person set to that ring tone. He’s forgotten to change Cobb’s tone back to normal, and Cobb knows better than to call his mobile if there’s an emergency.

For the first time in two years, Arthur lets Cobb’s call ring twice before leisurely answering. “Hey Dom.”

“Promise you won’t yell at me,” Cobb says. As far as opening lines go, Arthur doesn’t find it terribly promising.

“I know better than that. What have you done?”

Cobb laughs on the other end and it makes Arthur relax a little. Nobody would sound so genuinely amused in the face of certain doom. “It’s nothing. Just a job offer—”

“ _Dom_ , do you know what retirement means—”

“—a legal one,” Cobb finishes. “More or less.”

“More or less,” Arthur repeats, sceptical.

“We’ll be working with people in the justice system. Actually, our client used to be the most famous prosecutor in all of the States—”

“Dom, I don’t care if your client is Damon fucking Gant. I haven’t agreed yet.”

“But you will, Arthur.” Now, Cobb’s voice takes that excited tone he uses whenever he comes across the challenge of the unknown. “I haven’t told you who the mark is. Have you heard of Kristoph Gavin?”

“Of course I have. He’s the one they—” Arthur stops abruptly and sighs explosively. “Fuck. You’re right. I’m in.”

“I’ve heard he’s _insane_. He was in solitary confinement already, but now he’s been shut away in maximum security because they just don’t know what to do with him.”

“We’re extracting from a psychopath,” Arthur says, as if saying it aloud will help him better understand this fact. “You realise just how dangerous this is, don’t you?”

“Why else do you think I called you? You’re the most loyal friend I have, Arthur, but you wouldn’t have followed me around the world if you were happy sitting back and being safe.”

Arthur barks out a laugh. “You’re right about that.”

“We’re being hired by Miles Edgeworth. We’re meeting at the Wright & Co. law office in a week. I’ll send you the details, and you let me know if you find anything interesting about our client.”

“I’m on it,” Arthur replies, and despite all the downtime since the inception job, despite the fact that he thought _this_ was supposed to be his time to relax, it’s the prospect of a new job, of having work to do, that makes him feel a wave of calm settle over him.

The rest of the conversation is just catching each other up on their lives, about what Phillipa and James are doing, and work isn’t mentioned again. Arthur doesn’t even think twice about this; if Cobb has anything to mention, he would have done it already. He doesn’t offer to gather the rest of the team because Cobb is more than capable of doing this himself when it’s a legal job and they have the luxury of time. They bid goodbye to each other at the end of their conversation and say that they’ll see each other in a week, and for a moment it sounds like Cobb is going to say something.

“You okay?” Arthur picks up on it immediately, frowning with concern even if Cobb can’t see it.

“I’m fine Arthur,” Cobb says and Arthur is good at picking up on the times when Cobb is lying; this is not one of them. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”

Arthur lets it go, pushing it from his mind in favour of concentrating on the work he has to do. Not being pressed for time means he can take his time to be thorough with every piece of information he comes across. It’s easy to find information on Edgeworth; from his infamous days as the Demon Prosecutor to now, a professor of Criminal Law at Ivy University. There are several articles that mention him alongside Phoenix Wright and Arthur does a quick search on the name, unsurprised to find that he is the attorney who owns the offices they’ll be working out of.

He’s more intrigued by the fact that between the two of them, it’s Phoenix who would be more interested to extract from Kristoph Gavin. There are several articles that describe the way Phoenix had exposed Kristoph for who he truly was and finally, a week later, Arthur makes sure to turn up at the office half an hour early just for an opportunity to talk to Phoenix Wright himself.

“Are you Cobb?” Phoenix greets him at the door, shaking his hand firmly.

“I’m his associate. Arthur.”

“The point man,” Phoenix smiles. “I’m told you’re the best.”

“Who told you?” Arthur asks, looking around the cluttered office with a critical eye as he is lead inside.

“A lot of rumours, but mainly Cobb. We’ve been emailing each other about this case— _job_.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning on using this evidence in court, Mr. Wright?”

“Phoenix,” comes the absent correction. “No, there’s no point. This is purely for selfish reasons, but it’s still an investigation to me. I’m after the truth.”

“Here I thought it was Mr. Edgeworth we were working for,” Arthur says, though he’s already come up with his own theory of what’s going on.

“Miles is the one with the money,” Phoenix smiles, “and he wants me to leave the subject of Kristoph Gavin well and truly alone.”

“From what I’ve found,” Arthur doesn’t even need to pull up physical records that he’s read to remember this, “you’ve always been a _determined_ man when it came to your cases. Then, when you pursued Gavin, you turned ruthless.”

“Well,” Phoenix’s eyes are shuttered, “I’m sure your research also pulled up what he’s done to me. To my family.”

Arthur sighs quietly. “Mr. Wright, it’s not my job to question _why_ our clients want us to extract information; my only job is to _get_ that information, but Cobb only told me you want to uncover what other truths Kristoph Gavin has locked away. If you go digging into a man’s mind just to see what you can see, you won’t like what you find. I guarantee it.”

“Funny. You’re the third person to warn me about that.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Then maybe we’re onto something.”

“You don’t understand. I need this. It’s like he’s got an impenetrable wall up in his mind and I’m not going to get any closure until I break it down.”

Phoenix runs a hand through his hair and for a moment, looks utterly worn out.

Arthur is saved from having to respond by a knock on the door. Cobb looks unsurprised to find Arthur here early and they greet each other warmly. Phoenix helps them rearrange the furniture to accommodate the rest of the team and Arthur is pleased to find Ariadne making her way into the room.

“Is everyone here?” Ariadne asks, looking at Cobb with a cautious expression that makes Arthur immediately suspicious.

“We don’t need a chemist on-site for this job, so we’re just waiting on—”

“Well isn’t this a lovely reunion?” a voice interrupts; too smooth, too familiar, and Arthur freezes.

“Cobb,” Arthur growls, not once looking at Eames. “A word.”

“What, not even a hello?” Eames is silenced with a glare as Arthur pushes past him, out of the office and onto the street.

“Arthur…”

“What the fuck,” Arthur snaps, “what the _fuck_ is going on in your head? I don’t— You _know_ — Damn it, Dom, I didn’t sign up for this.”

“This?” Cobb repeats, with the evasive tone he uses whenever he lies. “This is an extraction on Kristoph Gavin. It’s exactly what you signed up for.”

“Not with Eames,” a pleading note creeps into Arthur’s voice and he hates everyone and everything for it. “You have no idea—”

“I know that you’ve got issues to work out,” Cobb interrupts calmly. “And I know you won’t unless someone makes you do it.”

“There’s nothing to work out.” Arthur is stony faced as he turns towards the door to go back inside. “You stay out of this. And keep Ariadne out of it, too.”

“We need Eames,” Cobb says. “We’re extracting from a psychopath. We need the best we can get. I should have told you first, I know, but don’t let your personal issues with him interfere with the job.”

“Would you listen to that.” Arthur laughs bitterly. “Dominick Cobb, telling me to act professional. Like you can talk.”

“Arthur—” Cobb begins, but Arthur ignores him, walking back inside.

The entire atmosphere of the office has changed now and Phoenix raises an eyebrow questioningly, but doesn’t ask. Judging by the fact that he and Ariadne have taken both the seats on either side of Eames, he’s either been told or has figured it out for himself. Arthur doesn’t care either way; he sits down and keeps his eyes on his moleskine.

“Let’s get started then,” Cobb says with forced cheer, once he enters the room again. “I’ll just open with my starting ideas…”

Arthur gets his pen out, ready to make notes, and lifts his head to watch Cobb move to the centre of the room. His gaze falls on Eames for the briefest moment before he looks away, but it’s just long enough to see the pained look in the forger’s eyes.

Arthur sighs silently to himself. He’s already looking forward to the end of this job.

 

•

 

Edgeworth makes his way to the Wright & Co. Law Offices as soon as his consulting hours at university are over. Trucy and Apollo are both in Kurain, staying with Maya because Phoenix doesn’t want to get them involved in this and it’s the only good thing Edgeworth can find with this.

Without Trucy and Apollo, the office is markedly quieter. Edgeworth notices it from outside on the street, but in the place of the lively chatter there’s an air of tension that fills the entire building.

There are strangers in his partner’s office, making themselves at home. The desk and couch in the reception area have been rearranged to allow for a larger workspace and there’s a small girl examining photos spread out over what is usually Apollo’s desk. There’s a man with several days’ worth of stubble lying on the couch and idly flipping through a dossier and while Edgeworth disapproves of how lax he looks, it’s nothing compared to the irritated scowl of the third man in the room, who has his gaze fixed on his laptop as he works but occasionally looks up to glare more intently.

“Miles,” Phoenix saves him from having to awkwardly break the silence and motions him into the office, where a fourth man is standing with a whiteboard. “This is Cobb, the extractor. You’ve already seen his team out there.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Edgeworth manages a smile and a quick shake of Cobb’s hand. “How is everything progressing?”

“We’re going over the best way to bring Kristoph into a dream that we can navigate,” Phoenix turns to the whiteboard and Edgeworth can see some suggestions scrawled out on it. “Cobb says that it’s best to construct a dream that looks like something he’s familiar with. Something related to whatever we’re trying to extract.”

“Have you come to a decision, then?” Edgeworth directs his question at Cobb, because it’s easier than thinking about Phoenix sharing dreams with Kristoph Gavin.

Phoenix smiles in the cautious way that Edgeworth has learned to interpret as _trouble_. “The best bet is to recreate his family home. He’ll be most at ease there, which means that his subconscious will be easier to work with.”

Edgeworth considers this silently, and there is a knock on the door. One of the men enters the room with a moleskine in his hand and Cobb turns to him.

“Arthur. Did you find anything?”

“There aren’t many people in the police department who have had experience with shared dreaming,” Arthur reports. “Just a few who had to work with special cases. Our best bet is in a prison cell at the moment on smuggling charges. Cobb, do we need to do this? What is one policeman going to do? This one has… connections to the job, too.”

“Depends on who he is,” Phoenix folds his arms across his chest. “I thought it would be a good precaution to take, but I think I know which policeman you’re talking about, and that gives me an idea.”

“Phoenix…” Edgeworth says cautiously.

“Daryan Crescend,” Phoenix says, glancing at Arthur for confirmation before continuing. “Close friend of Klavier Gavin, Kristoph’s younger brother.”

“Surely, you aren’t getting them involved in this, too…” Edgeworth begins, but his tone is resigned.

“The younger brother would be helpful to make the dream more believable,” Cobb says with a small shrug. “If he’s willing to help.”

“That’s a very big if,” Arthur speaks up. “His own brother?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Phoenix says, and he sounds far too confident for Edgeworth’s liking. “He’ll help. I know he will.”

“And on top of that, you’ve got the fact that Klavier Gavin seems to have cut all ties with Daryan Crescend since his sentencing,” Arthur points out.

“Leave everything to me,” Phoenix says, and it makes Edgeworth want to shout _no_ , because he’s afraid of what Phoenix may do. Kristoph Gavin has always brought out the worst in him and Edgeworth is too much of a realist to hope that this time will be any better.

“Fine.” Cobb is in charge here and it’s his decision. “I’ll leave them both to you then, Mr. Wright. We’ll all meet here again tomorrow afternoon to go through our ideas together.”

Arthur nods once in agreement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Watching Arthur promptly turn on his heel and leave, Edgeworth considers just how strange this all is. With so many people involved, with so much work to do, it would be far too easy for things to get messy.

With a quiet sigh, he simply hopes that Phoenix knows what he’s gotten himself into.

 

•

 

Phoenix goes to visit Klavier the next day. He is staying in his own house, away from the now-empty Gavin manor, and doesn’t look entirely pleased to see Phoenix—or to have company at all.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Phoenix says, once Klavier lets him inside. He’s busying himself by making coffee for both of them and Phoenix lets him stall for as long as he wants. When Klavier finally turns around, he continues, “I wanted to know how you would feel about… investigating your brother a little further.”

Klavier’s laugh is hollow, bitter. “What is there to investigate? He’s a murderer. He’s in prison. End of story.”

“Is it?” Phoenix asks, because he knows it’s not enough for him; certainly, it’s not enough for Klavier either.

“What are you here to talk about?” Klavier asks, frowning. “Is there something else that he’s done?”

“Probably.” Phoenix grimaces at Klavier, “I’m sorry for saying it, but there’s a good chance that there’s a lot he’s done that no one has ever caught him for.”

“So, what?” Klavier sits across from Phoenix, sipping his coffee slowly. “You’re going to try and dig deep enough to find out what he’s done? Then what?”

“It’s not that straight-forward,” Phoenix sighs. “I know with a… high degree of certainty, that he’s still hiding things. Who knows what? I just want to get to the bottom of everything. To _understand_ him and find out what drove him to do everything he’s done.”

“He’s a psychopath,” Klavier says dispassionately. “Isn’t that enough for you? There’s something wrong with him. He’s sick.”

“Maybe. But I want to know _everything_ , Klavier. I just want to give you the opportunity to help me. To finally find your own closure while you’re at it. You can’t just hole yourself up here and pretend you haven’t lost everything. Trust me, things don’t work that way.”

Klavier frowns, but says nothing. Phoenix lets the silence grow, drinking his own coffee. He knows that Klavier will come around in his own time and sure enough, Klavier speaks up again after a long moment.

“So you already have something planned.”

Phoenix nods. “I take it that you’ve heard of shared dreaming?”

“Yes,” is Klavier’s immediate reply. He frowns. “You’re going to try extracting from him?”

“It’s the easiest way I could think of. Your brother is the type of person to guard his secrets carefully no matter what, but I think that it might be easier to find a way to uncover them if we go into his subconscious.”

Klavier shakes his head. “You want to _get in Kristoph’s head_ , when you already know that he’s crazy?”

“We have a team of professionals to help,” Phoenix smiles. “Their job is to keep things as stable as possible so we can find the secrets Kristoph has locked away.”

“ _We_ ,” Klavier repeats. He turns his coffee mug around in his hands as he thinks silently. At length, he finally sighs. “Do you really think it will help me put this all behind me and move on?”

“I’m counting on it to do the same for me,” Phoenix says with such honesty that Klavier looks taken aback. “I won’t be happy until I have the answers to the questions that have been gnawing on me ever since… a long time ago, now.”

Klavier gives Phoenix a wan smile. “I’m sure I understand that feeling better than anybody else, at the moment.”

“That’s why I need your help,” Phoenix says, and his expression serious again. “If we’re constructing a dream, we need to draw on elements from his past. We could go digging and hope for the best, or we could use your input. I know it’s a lot to ask of you, Klavier, but will you join us?”

Klavier hesitates, but Phoenix notes with some relief that he doesn’t immediately refuse. The emotions play across Klavier’s face clearly, showing how conflicted he feels, and he finally looks up and says, “I need more time to think about it.”

“How about I give you a day to think about it,” Phoenix offers. “You have the number to my office. Give me a call once you’ve made up your mind. And either way; thank you for hearing me out. I know this is difficult for you.”

The corner of Klavier’s lips twitch into a brief, mirthless smile. “Thank you for coming to see me. I haven’t had very much company lately. I’ll give you a call as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” Phoenix nods in appreciation. “Don’t let yourself get too down, alright?”

Walking Phoenix to the door, Klavier snorts quietly. “I will try.”

From there, Phoenix immediately makes his way to the downtown detention centre. He’s already made arrangements to speak to Daryan Crescend beforehand, so as soon as he goes to the reception desk, he is led into a small interview room.

Daryan looks up when Phoenix walks into the room, frowning with confusion.

“What the hell’s going on?” Daryan’s cuffed hands are balled into fists, his entire posture tense. “I was told some lawyer wanted to talk to me, but no one said anything about you. If this is about my sentence—”

“Calm down, Detective Crescend,” Phoenix smiles, sitting down across from him.

“Ain’t _detective_ any more, is it?” Daryan retorts, but he sits back in his chair. “So what have I done to earn myself a visit from _Phoenix Wright_ , of all people?”

“I have a job offer for you,” Phoenix folds his arms on the table and leans in just slightly, lowering his voice, “and the opportunity to shorten your sentence.”

“Yeah?” Daryan raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “So what’s the catch? How terrible is this job you want me to do?”

“It’s quite simple, really. I have a feeling you might even enjoy it. I want someone I know—someone who’s done standardised legal extractions—to go in with a team I’ve already hired. You’re the only one I know that has had any kind of experience with shared dreaming.”

Daryan snorts, shaking his head. “You can’t just _go into a dream_ like that. If you’ve already got a team, I’m only going to get in their way.”

“No, I’m sure that you’ll be very helpful to them for this job,” Phoenix smiles. “ _Especially_ for this job.”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Daryan shrugs. “Who’s the subject?”

“Kristoph Gavin. I know he’s already locked up but I want to find out what else he’s got locked away in his head. You know enough about dreaming _and_ about Kristoph to be pretty damn useful.”

Daryan’s gaze drops to his hands. “Does Klavier know about this?”

“I’m asking for his help on this too. He hasn’t agreed yet, but I know he will. He needs the closure.”

“And does he know that you’re planning on having me as part of the team?”

Phoenix’s lack of a reply says enough. Daryan laughs hollowly and shakes his head.

“Forget it, man. He’s going to take one look at me and decide that he doesn’t want to be part of the job. I know you need him more than you need me so thanks, but no thanks.”

“You’re both professionals. I’m sure you can put your differences behind you,” Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “You’ll at least try, won’t you? Because I did some asking around and we can have you paroled if you do help us. Keep up the good behaviour the guards have seen in here already and we could get rid of your charges altogether.”

“You’re _bribing_ me to break into Kristoph Gavin’s head and steal his darkest secrets,” Daryan says, raising an eyebrow. Then he smirks. “This has got to be the best day I’ve had in _forever_.”

“You’ll help us then,” Phoenix says, sounding satisfied.

“Yeah I’ll help. I’ll figure out what to do about Klavier—just give me some time to talk to him and we’ll work things out somehow.”

“Wonderful. You’ll come with me, then. I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get ready; we have a dream to plan.”

 

•

 

Arthur is in a bad mood. His expression is impassive as ever, his voice just as controlled, but everything inside him screams to get out of here, away from Eames. Preferably several countries away from him.

The fact that he’s having such a severe flight reaction only serves to piss Arthur off even more. He’s not the type to run and damn it, between him and Eames, _he’s_ not the one in the wrong. It’s just that Arthur doesn’t like being faced with his mistakes and no matter how he looks at it, that’s exactly what Eames had been. A very bad mistake.

Which doesn’t explain with he’s showing up to the Wright & Co. offices with coffee for the entire team, down to the precise orders, Eames’ long black with one sugar nestled in the cardboard tray beside Arthur’s latte. Yes, it’s his job as a point man to remember small details, and it’s better for the team’s production if they’ve got a steady supply of coffee. But it doesn’t explain the strange thrill he gets from Eames’ reserved smile when he accepts his cup, or the sudden jolt of electricity when their fingers accidentally brush against each other.

“I hope you’ve come up with a plan for your forge,” Arthur says, just to break the silence. It comes out sounding condescending, and he doesn’t try to take it back. The disappointment in Eames’ eyes stings all the same.

“I’ve got a lovely plan that we’ll run through once everyone gets here,” Eames replies. He sounds as calm as ever, but there’s a hardness in his eyes that Arthur knows is because of him.

It’s been years since Arthur and Eames have gotten along. There was a time that they’d been much like Cobb and Mal; two halves of the same whole, understanding each other in a way that no others could. That time has passed, and Arthur has put it firmly behind him. Or so he’d like to think. The Fischer job had been filled with their old flirting, the covert glances and intentionally brushing against each other. The Fischer job had made it a little too easy for them to fall back into their old patterns. It had made Arthur realise there is only one way that he’ll ever be able to go on with his life without craving Eames like a part of him that has been torn away; he needs to avoid seeing him, avoid being near him, avoid thinking of him. It’s far easier said than done, but Arthur had been trying his damned hardest and _that_ is why he’s so pissed off at Cobb now, for ruining that.

The door swings open and, speak of the devil, Cobb walks through, wearing the expression he always wears when he thinks he’s doing a good job of playing it cool. For the best extractor there is, Cobb is alarmingly bad at lying, but that’s what Arthur’s there for. And Eames.

Arthur looks up to find Phoenix watching him curiously, and turns away, returning to his own workspace.

Daryan is drinking his coffee like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted; probably not very far off from the truth considering where he’s been, Arthur thinks. There isn’t much to brief Daryan on when he already knows most of it better than they do, but he’s sitting there, looking like he’s waiting for something.

The door opens, and Arthur turns to see Klavier Gavin walking into the room. He pauses at the door, trepidation written all over his face, and then his gaze falls on Daryan, and his eyebrows knit together in an impressive, immediate scowl.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Klavier demands, and Arthur feels like he can relate. Klavier turns to Phoenix, looking betrayed. “You could have told me that you were making him work on this.”

“I didn’t want that to influence your decision,” Phoenix replies, hands held up in front of him defensively.

“Why? Because you knew that I wouldn’t agree if I was aware that I’d need to be working with Daryan?” Klavier’s voice rises and Daryan fixes his gaze on his coffee, keeping his face carefully blank. Arthur doesn’t even know who to feel more sorry for.

“I didn’t tell you because this case has to do with your personal relationship with Kristoph and _that_ had to be the deciding factor, not the fact that Daryan is helping us.” Phoenix’s voice is gentle but his expression warns against any argument.

With a sigh, Klavier turns his gaze to the floor before looking up at the rest of the team with a polite smile. There’s a round of introductions and then they get down to work.

Cobb is unafraid to be direct; he takes Klavier over to a cork board with pictures of the Gavin mansion and outlines the plan they’ve already come up with; they’ll make Kristoph think he is at home, where he is most likely to be comfortable, so his secrets won’t be as tightly guarded.

“How are you going to manage that?” Klavier asks sceptically.

“Have you ever been in a shared dream before?” Arthur raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, he’s never had to,” Daryan answers for Klavier. “Only a handful of detectives have, over here, and there ain’t as big of an underground scene for it here, just yet.”

“I’m aware of these facts,” Arthur says tersely.

“And I’d prefer if you didn’t speak for me, considering I’m perfectly capable myself,” adds Klavier, sounding equally unimpressed.

“Give the man a break, he’s only trying to help,” Eames joins in, earning a glare from Arthur.

“ _This_ is your highly competent team?” Edgeworth raises an eyebrow at Cobb, who looks uncomfortable as he watches the others snap at each other. “I realised that Gavin and Crescend would have trouble working together, but dealing with that on top of your point man and forger?”

“They’ll sort it out,” Cobb says uneasily. “They usually do.”

“They’d better,” Edgeworth huffs, folding his arms, and Phoenix places a hand on his shoulder, calming him.

“Don’t you worry, Miles. They will.”

 

•

 

Despite Phoenix’s assuredness, there is no sign of Arthur and Eames getting along any better than before. Arthur and Ariadne are working with Klavier, getting as much detail as possible from him about the Gavin mansion, about how life had been when he and Kristoph were younger. Arthur cross-checks everything against the information that he pulls up from—somewhere, with alarming speed and accuracy.

“I’ve got an idea for the forge,” Eames speaks up, from the corkboard that has copies of the Gavins’ old photographs pinned to it.

“Yes, Eames?” Arthur doesn’t look away from the sketches Ariadne has done of the mansion.

“The mother.” Eames taps the picture once. “Use her to lull Gavin into feeling even more secure. Make it easier for Cobb to find the information.”

“That’s not going to work,” Arthur says immediately. He looks up, glances around to make sure Klavier isn’t there, and lowers his voice before he continues. “Their parents died when they were young—under _suspicious circumstances_. Judging from what we know about Kristoph Gavin at the moment, I’m sure you’ll see why that’s a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on,” Eames snorts. “Did you hear what Klavier was saying? Gavin and his mother were close.”

“He killed his parents, Eames.”

“That’s just an assumption you’re making—”

“ _With good reason_ ,” Arthur snaps. “He’s already been found guilty of—how many murders?”

“All people he didn’t know,” Eames argues. “And look, even if you’re right, there would have been a period of his life _before_ he snapped. I’ll forge a young version of his mother. He would have loved her then.”

“No. This is a risk we can’t take,” Arthur shakes his head. “Find someone else. Someone who’d make him feel smug and relaxed—forge his old apprentice, Justice, if you need to.”

“I wasn’t aware that a point man’s job included deciding how the forger was going to do his,” Eames smiles with obvious insincerity.

“It’s the point man’s job to make sure we don’t fuck up,” Arthur shoots back.

“Enough, seriously,” Ariadne interrupts. “I’m sick of hearing you guys argue. Arthur, get back to these sketches. Eames…”

“I’m going out for a smoke,” the forger growls, hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched.

“Right,” Ariadne says, nodding.

Eames nearly runs into Klavier on the way out, who looks terrified by the look on Eames’ face. Arthur’s isn’t any more welcoming for the briefest moment, before he calms himself. He forces a small smile, and waves Klavier over.

“This is the model for the mansion,” Arthur indicates the foam core miniature on the desk beside Ariadne. “The grounds loop in on themselves and we’ve added some dream architecture on the inside, but we’re more interested in the general feel of it being right.”

“It looks right,” Klavier nods, glancing at the photographs and sketches beside it. Sounding less certain, he asks, “Do you need me to go into the dream with you?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Cobb speaks up from the other side of the room, where he’s conversing quietly with Phoenix. “We have enough information to do the actual job without you. It’s best if you stay out of it. You too, Ariadne.”

For a moment, Ariadne looks like she’s about to protest. With a sigh, she nods. “Right. We promised Miles.”

“We’ll go over your architecture,” Cobb decides, reaching for one of the PASIV cases. “The sooner we’ve finalised this, the sooner you can go home. You have classes starting up again soon.”

“Lucky me,” Ariadne says, with a slight quirk to her lips. “If I see Mal, I’m decking you.”

Arthur snorts quietly, and Cobb manages a smile. “You won’t see her.”

Klavier watches with fascination as the PASIV is set up and both Cobb and Ariadne fall asleep.

“You’re sure you don’t want to try it out?” Arthur raises an eyebrow at Klavier.

Shaking his head, Klavier smiles. “I… don’t like the thought of other people being in my head. It’s barely pleasant for _me_ in there, these days.”

“Well, you’ve lost a lot.” Arthur says, folding his arms. “I doubt that Crescend being involved in the job would help.”

“I guess you’d understand what it’s like,” Klavier says, “with Eames.”

“There’s nothing with Eames,” Arthur says calmly, and then looks up when he notices the way Phoenix suddenly jerks in his chair. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phoenix replies, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry.”

Arthur frowns, but he’s distracted when the door opens, and both Eames and Daryan walk inside.

“Hey,” Daryan greets the room at large, but avoids Klavier’s eyes. He takes a seat beside Eames, talking to him quietly—Arthur thinks he hears the mention of forging, but he doesn’t ask.

Klavier gives Arthur a strained smile, clearly feeling a sense of kinship regardless of what Arthur says. It makes Arthur wonder if he’s more obvious than he thinks, but he pushes it to the back of his mind when he notices Cobb and Ariadne stirring awake.

“We’re done designing the dream,” Cobb announces, pulling the needle from his wrist. “Arthur, if you go under with Ariadne to learn the details, we’ll be able to push forward, and Ariadne can go home.”

Arthur nods, sitting down and setting himself up. He’s aware that Eames is watching him, but he refuses to look at him, fixing his gaze on the PASIV as Cobb depresses the button.

“So, what’s up with you and Eames?” Ariadne asks.

They’re walking up a long, gravel driveway and Arthur begins to memorise the crunch of the small rock beneath his shoes. “Why are you always so interested in other people’s business? It has nothing to do with you.”

“It does, if it affects the job.”

“But it’s not. He’s doing his thing, I’m doing mine. We’re leaving each other alone.”

“And when you shot down his idea for the forge—”

“It was a bad idea.” Arthur lets out an agitated sigh. “I would have done the same no matter _who_ came up with it.”

Ariadne watches Arthur carefully as they approach the large double doors of the mansion and walk inside.

“But Eames is right, you know. It’s not exactly your job to decide who he’s forging.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, and Ariadne knows better than to push. The rest of the dream is spent going every minute detail, and if Arthur speaks, it’s only to ask questions on the architecture.

Arthur keeps an eye on his watch, moving slower than the time around them to keep track of how much dream time they have left.

“We’re done,” he says. “But we’ve got a few minutes left on the clock. I’m getting back to work.”

Before Ariadne even has the time to react, Arthur dreams up a gun to shoot himself out of the dream. By the time Ariadne constructs her own, less violent kick, Arthur and Eames are already in a punch-up.

“What the _fuck_ were you going through my bag for?” Arthur growls, holding Eames down to the desk with one hand on his throat, the other across his chest. “Are you just _trying_ to piss me off?”

“Calm down,” Eames’ hands are free, and he could easily throw Arthur off. Instead, he holds the wrist of the hand Arthur has on his throat. “I was just checking if you had a few smokes I could steal. Noticed you still smoke the same brand, by the way.”

Arthur pulls his hand away as if he’s been burned and takes a step back. “You had no right— We’re not—”

“I know, Arthur,” Eames says, easing himself off the desk and rubbing his throat. “Forget it.”

Ariadne is the first to act, grabbing hold of Cobb and advancing on Eames, leading them both out of the office.

Phoenix stands to the side, wearing a slight frown and he glances at Klavier and Daryan, who both look bewildered by what they’ve just seen.

“If you two wouldn’t mind,” Phoenix says, and he doesn’t need to say any more. They both nod, leaving hurriedly, and Phoenix folds his arms across his chest, looking at Arthur.

“What?” the point man snaps.

“I can’t have you starting brawls in my office,” Phoenix says, and reaches into his pocket. “Your issues with Eames are disrupting the team dynamics here.”

“There’s nothing with Eames,” Arthur says firmly, and frowns when Phoenix takes a small green object out of his pocket and sets it down on the desk. “What’s that?”

“I can tell you’re lying,” Phoenix says, running his forefinger along the smooth surface of the curved jade. “There’s more between you and Eames than you want to admit.”

Arthur snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous, I barely even know him.”

“No?” Getting up, Phoenix crosses the room to Eames’ workspace, picking up an empty takeaway coffee cup. “You know exactly what kind of coffee he drinks. Without having to ask.”

“So? I’ve worked with him before. Remembering small details is part of my job.”

“You’ve forgotten to get extra sugar in Cobb’s coffee,” Phoenix says, remembering earlier in the morning. “But you’ve never forgotten that Eames drinks soy.”

“Well, remembering that someone is lactose intolerant is a little more important,” Arthur snaps, but then immediately shuts his mouth when he realises that he’s not helping himself. With a scowl, he folds his arms. “Fine. I know Eames better than I said, but it’s only because I’ve worked with him so often.”

“Really?” Phoenix raises an eyebrow. He chuckles. “You’re making this too easy for me.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Arthur narrows his eyes.

“The cigarettes, Arthur. Eames commented that you still smoke the same brand. He wouldn’t know that if you were just colleagues.”

“People smoke at work all the time. In fact, Eames went out for a cigarette just before. It would be easy for him to see what brand I smoke if we went for a cigarette break together.”

“He might be the type to smoke on the job, but you aren’t.” Phoenix stands in front of Arthur’s desk with his arms folded, the same determination brightening his eyes like in court. “Your pack wasn’t even opened yet, but somehow Eames knew it would be there. He knows you well enough outside of work to know that you smoke, and what brand you like.”

“Okay, so you’re right,” Arthur admits. “But I don’t see what you’re trying to do here, Mr. Wright.”

“I’m proving that whatever there is between you and Eames, it’s more than a simple friendship.”

“Stop wasting your time,” Arthur mutters. “I don’t even see how you’d be able to prove that.”

“Well, you’re not denying it, for one,” Phoenix smiles, but Arthur looks unimpressed. “Fine, you’re going to make me work for this lock, aren’t you?”

“Lock?” Arthur frowns, but Phoenix is already pacing the office, muttering under his breath. With a sigh, Arthur rolls his sleeve up and glances at his watch. “Look, this job may not be as time-sensitive as others, but I’d prefer if I could just get on with my work—”

“Your watch,” Phoenix interrupts.

“What…?”

“Your watch. It’s the exact same one that Eames wears.”

Frowning, Arthur touches his watch lightly before realising what he’s doing. Clearing his throat, he says, “So? That doesn’t mean anything. Do you honestly think we matched our watches on purpose?”

“You said it, not me,” Phoenix grins. “It’s not uncommon for partners to have things that match. Miles and I—”

“I don’t care,” Arthur snaps. “With all due respect, Mr. Wright, stay the fuck out of my business. The watches just match by coincidence. We have the same tastes, that’s all. Satisfied?”

“You really think I’ll believe that?” Phoenix presses, and at the back of Arthur’s mind, he is impressed by how determined Phoenix is—if they’d gone to him, instead of the wishy-washy lawyer with no backbone after Mal died, perhaps things would have been much easier. Phoenix laughs and continues, “I have _eyes_ , Arthur. I don’t think you’d be able to convince anyone that you and Eames have even remotely similar tastes in anything.”

“Fine,” Arthur growls. “Fine. We used to be… We used to be close. That is all you’re getting out of me, Wright. Nothing more.”

“I could ask someone else,” Phoenix shrugs.

“Eames won’t talk.”

“I’m not talking about him. There’s someone else who would have the information I’m after, if I wanted to know exactly why this world-class team of extractors is falling apart at the seams.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, shaking his head and keeping his gaze fixed on the documents in front of him.

“I could ask Cobb. I’ve done my own research, and it seems that you’ve worked almost exclusively with Cobb as your extractor for the past two years. It only makes sense, naturally, that the best point man would work with the best extractor, but it’s curious that aside from the Fischer job, you’ve never worked with the best forger. If I understand correctly, you used to work with Eames all the time—”

“Stop,” Arthur interrupts, rubbing a hand across his face. “Just stop. You don’t have to ask Cobb. I’ll tell you, if it makes you stop pushing. It’s—nothing. I just… Eames was supposed to be there, when I was working with Cobb to clear his charges, alright? He was supposed to wait, and then he decided that he didn’t want to. Apparently he didn’t care _that_ much, my mistake for assuming otherwise. He walked out on me when I needed him the most, and I can’t forgive him for that. It doesn’t exactly make me want to see him.”

“Was it like this on your last job too?” Phoenix asks gently.

“Last time, I could… forget it, sometimes. It was like we were slipping back into what we had, but I’m not the type of idiot to set myself up to make the same mistake twice. I’m making sure it doesn’t happen.” Arthur looks up at Phoenix with a weary look. “Happy?”

“Thank you,” Phoenix gives Arthur a small smile. “…You know that people make stupid mistakes they later regret, right?”

“And you know when it’s in your best interest to drop a subject, right?” Arthur replies.

“Depends on who you ask,” Phoenix grins, but his expression turns serious when he says, “I’ll leave you alone. Thank you, for humouring me. Something tells me that you don’t talk about this very much.”

“If you’re expecting me to thank you for prying into my business, you’ll be disappointed,” Arthur says, though he doesn’t look as irritated as Phoenix would expect.

He decides to take it as a good sign.

 

•

 

Arthur is calmer the next day; even Klavier notices it, when he walks into the office the next morning.

Eames looks up from the files he’s reading, waving Klavier over. “Good morning. Arthur went on a coffee run just before. Latte with two sugars for you, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Klavier takes the cup being held out to him, silently marvelling at how much brighter Eames’ mood seems, too. “So you wanted me to come here to talk to you about Kristoph?”

“Anything you can tell us makes us better prepared for getting around when we’re in your brother’s head,” Eames says, sipping from his own coffee cup. “Usually, we’d just observe our mark in their natural setting, but we don’t exactly have that luxury this time.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to help you very much,” Klavier says with a grim smile. “I thought I knew him, but… well. I was mistaken.”

“You may think so, but you know what they say about hindsight. It might not have been obvious to you then, but now…”

Klavier frowns, and tries to think of something. “He’s obsessed with perfection, if that helps. But that’s not exactly news to anyone.”

“Don’t you worry, mate,” Eames claps him on the shoulder. “It’s not something you can force. We’ve got time—it’ll come to you.”

Klavier nods, but before he can reply, his attention is captured by Arthur and Daryan, setting up a PASIV by Arthur’s desk.

“I’m setting the timer for five minutes,” Arthur says as he unwinds two IV lines for them. “That’s an hour. More than long enough to show you what dreaming is _really_ like.”

Daryan looks nervous, and Klavier can’t fault him for that; good mood or no, Arthur is still one of the most intimidating people he has ever met. Klavier watches with fascination as they both slide the needles into their wrists, and when they fall asleep, he turns back to Eames to find that he’s watching Arthur with a soft look in his eyes, the slight quirk to his lips impossible to read as anything but affectionate. It makes Klavier feel less guilty for glancing back at Daryan, taking in his relaxed features, the way he looks more at ease than he has been for a very long time.

“Your… friend,” Eames says, with a very deliberate pause, “is in good hands. There’s no one quite like Arthur to teach someone what dreaming’s really about. That’s part of the reason why Ariadne is such a good architect. Well, that and the fact that she’s extremely talented.”

“Nice timing, Eames. Or did you see me at the door?” Ariadne walks into the office, followed by Cobb. She has a small suitcase with her and crosses the room to hug Eames. “I’m going to say this now, while Arthur’s asleep: if I hear that the two of you are still being idiots, I am not above flying back here for the sole purpose of kicking your arses.”

“Duly noted,” Eames replies, though his smile suddenly looks much more strained.

“And you,” she turns to Klavier. “I’m not really sure what’s going on with you and Detective Crescend, but I hope you work it out.”

Klavier simply blinks, at an utter loss for words, and Cobb chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s Ariadne for you. Best not to question it.”

Klavier nods mutely, his attention captured when he sees Daryan and Arthur stirring. Arthur wakes immediately, his eyes sharp and his movements efficient as always when he gets to his feet and pulls the needle from his wrist before winding his IV line back into the machine.

Daryan takes longer. He’s awake, but he lingers in his seat, wide-eyed and elated. There’s a smile on his face that Klavier doesn’t think Daryan could hide even if he wanted to. It’s infectious—it’s a knee-jerk reaction for Klavier to smile when Daryan is, ingrained from sharing so much both on and offstage, and their eyes meet. For a brief moment, Daryan’s grin falters, but when Klavier keeps smiling, so does he, even brighter than before.

Klavier is vaguely aware of Arthur saying something about dropping Ariadne off at the airport and meeting a contact after, but the majority of his attention is on Daryan and he can’t really find it in him to care about much more than the fact that this is the first time they’ve connected since the eventful concert that had torn everything apart. The thought makes his smile slip just a little, and it’s enough to make Daryan withdraw, his own smile fading and his expression turning guarded.

And just like that, the moment is gone and Klavier is left feeling empty, feeling angry that _Daryan_ is the one who is afraid of being hurt.

Eames is watching with a look that is far too knowing for Klavier’s liking, but there’s a touch of sympathy, of understanding, that softens it.

“Kristoph had a dog,” Klavier says, desperate to change the subject. “Vongole. She’s my dog now, I suppose, but when Kristoph had her, he… was never cruel, but I can see now, that he’d use her to feel in control.”

Eames’ brow furrows as he considers this. “We could use this information to make him feel more relaxed in the dream. You’ve given us a good way to fool him into thinking nothing is amiss—perhaps if I can meet your dog, I’ll be able to find a way to incorporate her into the dream. At the very least, having her demanding his attention will keep him distracted while we do our work.”

“How are you going to do that?” Daryan speaks up, frowning. “I thought that you couldn’t control projections—”

“Ah, of course, but that is assuming I’ll be using a projection,” Eames smiles. “Forgers have their tricks, Detective Crescend and they all centre around the way people perceive things.”

“You’re going to dream up a dog,” Daryan says disbelievingly, and Eames chuckles.

“You’ve dreamed up guns before, I’m sure. Why is a dog any different? I’m sure Arthur’s shown you his lovely Penrose staircase. If you can put a paradox into a dream, a small animal shouldn’t really be that much of a stretch.”

“Arthur _did_ say that your ideas tend to be a bit—outside the box.”

“Oh, forget what Arthur says. He wouldn’t be able to think outside the box even if his life depended on it.”

There’s a look in Eames’ eyes that says he doesn’t really mean it, but Klavier is kind enough not to point it out.

Daryan, on the other hand, isn’t. “Man, that’s bullshit and you know it. What’s with the two of you, anyway? Messy break up?”

Eames barks out a laugh, and it isn’t a pleasant sound. “Something like that. Similar to whatever has the two of you doing your best to avoid each other.”

“I doubt it,” Klavier mutters.

“You’d be surprised by just how many people make the same kinds of mistakes,” Eames sighs, and then turns to the whiteboard near his desk, picking up a marker. “Enough of that. Klavier, this is the rough layout of the mansion here; which rooms would your dog usually stay in? I need all the details as precise as possible. I think that if we get this down, you’ll be able to sit the rest out. Something tells me you’d appreciate that.”

“Just a little,” Klavier replies with a wry grin. “I know that you do this for a living, but I really can’t see how.”

“To each their own,” Eames shrugs, before turning back to the whiteboard. “Now, you said that Kristoph’s study is located over here…”

By the time Arthur returns, they have Kristoph and Vongole’s daily routines mapped out on the board and all three of them—Daryan included—are in an animated discussion of exactly how Eames will use Vongole to keep Kristoph distracted.

This all changes, however, when Arthur shuts the door behind him. It closes with a soft click, but it catches Eames’ attention and Arthur’s expression makes him fall silent mid-sentence. Cobb is standing beside Arthur, looking grim, and Eames visibly deflates.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, not a question.

“The contact I spoke with,” Arthur says slowly, “is from the local underground dream sharing world. The type that use PASIVs as recreational tools. Tells me that for a period of just over a year, Kristoph Gavin had been a regular customer of his. I’m talking multiple times a week.”

“Fuck,” Eames mutters. “ _Fuck_.”

“I’m sorry,” Klavier frowns, confused. “Why is this such a bad thing?”

“Means your bro’s familiar with shared dreaming,” Daryan answers, his arms folded across his chest. “Means he can tell the difference between a real dream and a fake one.”

“He’s more likely to be a lucid dreamer,” Cobb explains. “If he notices things in the dream that tip him off about it being an extraction… well, judging from what we know about him, he’s not going to react well.”

“We need to tell Wright,” Arthur says. “This just got a lot riskier. Going in with a plan of action is pointless, if he’s going to notice and change things to suit him. We can’t do this.”

“Arthur,” Eames’ tone is gentle. “I think it’s worth a shot. We’re only using the normal compound—we don’t have the risk of Limbo to deal with, we don’t have to worry about this mark sending hired thugs after us. We change the plan—maybe the plan has to be about just adapting to whatever happens. We’ve done that before—and I know that if you’re the dreamer, we’ve got a good chance of keeping the dream stable enough, even if we does become lucid. We can do this, trust me.”

Arthur is silent for a torturously long moment before sighing in defeat. “Fine. But we still need to talk to Wright. And… Klavier, if we’re going to lose control of the dream, you’re the one who knows most about your brother. You’re the most well-equipped to help us navigate your brother’s mind. I know that it wasn’t part of the original plan, but that’s been shot to hell now. You’ll need to come into the dream with us.”

Klavier feels himself go cold with dread. He hasn’t heard very much about dream sharing, but what he does know has never made him keen to learn more. Especially not by going into Kristoph’s head.

Arthur doesn’t stop to notice the terrified look in Klavier’s eyes, already pacing as he comes up with a new plan. Eames is helping Arthur and they work in perfect synchrony, adding their ideas into something better, too focused on their work to care about how they treat each other. Klavier watches them work, fascinated enough to be distracted.

“See, Arthur,” Eames smiles reassuringly. “We’re fine. We’ve got a plan—maybe not as detailed as before, but we know what we’re doing before we’re found out. If everything goes well, we can keep him distracted long enough to do our job and get out. At least we’re not going into a dream without knowing we’re facing a militarised subconscious or something of the sort.”

Arthur’s expression immediately closes up and Eames must realise his mistake because his eyes go wide.

“No, Arthur, I didn’t mean it like—”

“Fuck you, Eames,” Arthur spits. He turns to the door, shaking his head at Cobb, who looks like he’s about to protest. “I’m going somewhere to plan in peace.”

Still, when Arthur slams the door behind him, Cobb sends a reproachful look in Eames’ direction before following.

Klavier remains in his seat, still struggling to grasp the fact that he’ll be dreaming with the others. He doesn’t look up until Daryan sits down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Daryan’s voice is gentle and Klavier is reminded once against that this is the only point of familiarity in an entirely new world that he doesn’t understand. “Look, if you’re going to be dreaming with us, it’s probably best if you got familiar with it first. Hey, Eames, is it alright if we use the PASIV?”

“Do whatever the bloody hell you want,” Eames grumbles, an unlit cigarette already hanging between his lips. “I’ll be outside.”

Daryan nods, opening the case and setting everything up before swabbing Klavier’s wrist and pushing the needle.

“You’ll love this,” Daryan promises, and that’s all Klavier hears before his eyes slip shut.

 

•

 

Eames is sitting in the sunny patch of a bench, in a park near the office when a shadow falls across him. It’s Phoenix and Eames’ shoulders slump as he exhales his smoke and looks up.

“I heard that I missed another fight in my office,” Phoenix says, taking a seat beside Eames. “I guess that’s what I get for spending my morning in Miles’ office.”

“Barely a fight,” Eames grunts. “I said something stupid. Arthur got mad and left. Not exactly a new development.”

“Is that what happened last time?” Phoenix asks, looking at his hands and turning a small, jade stone between his fingers. “The time you broke up?”

Eames laughs bitterly. “Oh, no. See, that time I was the one who left. All the stupid things were said afterwards. I must say, though, if Arthur told you anything about us at all, you must be a brilliant lawyer.”

Phoenix smiles at the compliment, but it’s short-lived. “I did my research, Eames, and I’ve seen the brief moments when you’re working together and you click. You and Arthur are brilliant together.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, I’m perfectly aware of how good we can be. And just how toxic we can be. I’ve seen both.”

“I know what it’s like to have someone like that—someone you love even if you don’t always see eye to eye with them, Eames. I’m just saying that maybe, some things are worth fighting for.”

“Fighting,” Eames laughs, shaking his head and taking another drag of his cigarette. “Fighting’s all we ever do, mate. I know you’re trying to help, but there’s nothing either of us can do. The ball’s in Arthur’s court. Always has been.”

Phoenix doesn’t look happy and Eames pats him on the shoulder before getting to his feet, smoking the last bit of his cigarette before putting it out.

“I’m heading back to the office. Klavier and Daryan should be done now. Speaking of which, I know Cobb is working on familiarising you with shared dreaming, but you’re probably better off going under with Arthur, too.”

“Did he teach you?” Phoenix asks, hurrying to keep up with Eames.

“Actually,” Eames grins. “I taught him.”

When they return to the office, the PASIV has already been packed away, and they find Daryan and Klavier standing over the model Ariadne has left behind of the mansion. Eames smiles when he notices the fact that they’re standing much closer to one another than before, and that Klavier sounds much happier when he speaks.

“I take it the dreaming went well?” he asks, and they both turn to him with matching grins.

“It was amazing,” Klavier beams. “The possibilities are… endless. Daryan dreamed up a concert for us—just like the ones we used to put on. It all felt so real. I had no idea…”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, eh?” Eames winks. “Come on, I’ll run you both through a few more trials. Wright, you come along, too. The sooner you’re all ready for this, the sooner we can do this extraction. Best not to leave it too long when Arthur’s all agitated like he is now.”

“Because you don’t want him to stress himself out?” Klavier asks.

“Because the longer the job stretches for, the more difficult it is to deal with him,” Eames replies. “Trust me. It’s in our best interests to get this done nice and quickly.”

“Well, then,” Phoenix reaches for the PASIV, placing it on the nearest desk. “Shall we?”

 

•

 

“You know, I’m not even sure if I’m excited or if I’m terrified,” Phoenix says, looking at the blueprints of the Gavin mansion one last time.

It’s the night before the extraction and Cobb has decided that everyone is ready, Phoenix and Klavier included. Tomorrow, one of the guards Arthur has paid off will slip a sedative into Kristoph’s late-morning tea, and everything will be set in motion from there.

Edgeworth is sitting in bed, a textbook on criminal law open in his lap as he cross-references information for a paper. He’ll be the one to watch over everyone when they go under with Kristoph and no matter how inconsequential his role is, he feels the tension too.

“Come here,” he says, putting his book on the bedside table and reaching out for Phoenix. He kisses Phoenix’s forehead and gives him a reassuring smile. “You’ll find what you’re looking for, Phoenix. Perhaps—as Cobb told us—you won’t uncover every secret he has, but you’ll find out what defines him. What made him into who he is.”

Phoenix chuckles. “You know, Cobb said that usually his team just goes in to find _tangible_ information. Something that can be found written down on a piece of paper. I couldn’t make things that simple for them, huh?”

“You don’t do _anything_ simply,” Edgeworth laughs, and pulls Phoenix into a kiss. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Phoenix smiles, content to lie in Edgeworth’s arms. “You know, I have a feeling that Daryan and Klavier are working their issues out. I’m glad.”

“Is that so?” Edgeworth raises an eyebrow. “You do realise that it might take them a while, don’t you? With Daryan betraying Klavier’s trust the way he did…”

“I know,” Phoenix sighs. “They have a lot to sort out, but I can see that they’re trying, and that’s a good start.”

“What about the two working with Cobb?” Edgeworth asks. “Arthur and Eames?”

Phoenix frowns. “I can tell that they miss whatever they had—I don’t need a magatama to know they’re lying to themselves. I talked to them both and…”

“You know, Phoenix, you don’t need to solve _every_ single problem you come across,” Edgeworth says gently. “You can’t expect to be able to.”

“I know.” With a loud sigh, Phoenix turns his face into the crook of Edgeworth’s neck. “They’d just get over it so much faster if they weren’t being to damn _stubborn_.”

“Oh, of course,” Edgeworth laughs, his fingers stroking through Phoenix’s hair. “Because you have _never_ been stubborn in your life.”

“That’s different,” Phoenix protests.

“If you insist.” Edgeworth tilts Phoenix’s head back to kiss him. “Enough talk. We’re both tense and nervous and I have a _wonderful_ idea of how to deal with it.”

“You’re my favourite,” Phoenix grins, rolling over so that he’s lying on top of Edgeworth, kissing him hard.

“Oh,” Edgeworth’s smile would be smug if not for the flush creeping up his neck. “I know.”

 

•

 

They’ve appropriated an interview room for the job, and Arthur stands at the door, waiting for confirmation that Kristoph is unconscious so they can begin. His mobile phone buzzes once before going silent and he checks it, nodding at Cobb as he slips it back into his pocket. “We’re on.”

“Go get him,” Cobb instructs. “Eames, you go with him. I’ll set up here.”

Arthur doesn’t protest Eames’ company; he’s too far into his _work_ mindset to do so. With a curt nod, he glances at Eames. “This way.”

Eames follows close behind, the way he does when they’re in hostile territory—whether dreamed or real—to let Arthur know his back is being covered. It’s unnecessary in a secure place like this, but it’s comforting all the same. Arthur knows that running point for every job—especially some that Cobb had gotten them into—is dangerous an requires him to be self-reliant in every situation. Still, it’s nice to be able to rely on Eames.

The thought brings him to a halt and Eames lets out a muffled grunt of surprise when he walks into Arthur’s back. “All right, Arthur?”

Arthur turns sharply, facing Eames. If the motion surprises Eames, his expression doesn’t show it. The forger simply watches patiently, the slight raising of his eyebrow questioning without the need for words.

Arthur looks away, clearing his throat quietly. Damn Phoenix Wright, for bringing thoughts back into his head when he’d spent so long pushing them out. Surely a _mind criminal_ would have better control over his thoughts.

“We’re here,” Arthur says, to break the silence, and to bring himself out of his thoughts. There’s a guard standing outside Kristoph’s cell and he lets them in, saying nothing as they lift Kristoph’s unconscious body between the two of them.

“Off we go, then,” Eames says, and Arthur leads the way back to the investigation room.

Cobb has the PASIV ready and Edgeworth is frowning in that way Arthur as seen in many people, pretending they aren’t terrified. Klavier looks even worse.

“The timer is set for two hours,” Arthur says to Edgeworth as he puts Kristoph down in a waiting chair and unbuttons his cuff, rolling it back to expose his wrist. “We’ll give ourselves the kick if we’re done before then. If Gavin wakes himself up, you have a gun to defend yourself. He won’t pose a threat, but if you feel the need for backup, wake one of us by tipping our chairs over. I’d suggest Eames.”

Phoenix raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t ask so Arthur ignores him. He doesn’t look at Eames when he takes one of the IV lines Cobb is holding out for them.

“Ready?” Cobb asks Edgeworth.

“Are _you_?” Edgeworth replies, and his gaze is locked with Phoenix’s as his fingers hover over the button. “Good luck.”

“Is there a reason you volunteered me as the backup?” Eames asks, when they’re standing at the front gate of the Gavin mansion. Kristoph is inside somewhere. Arthur leads the way up the gravel path.

“If I woke up, the dream would collapse,” explains Arthur. “So if I can’t provide armed backup, you’re the next best thing.”

“I’m touched.”

“You know, I’m a trained detective,” Daryan speaks up. “Firearms training and stuff.”

“You dislocated your shoulder firing a weapon I could handle when I was four years younger than you,” Arthur replies, not looking back. “And besides, I’d rather pick someone I—”

His throat closes around the word _trust_ , and he blinks. His chest shouldn’t hurt that much. It shouldn’t hurt at all.

“Something’s off, Arthur,” Cobb speaks up, thankfully knowing when the subject needs changing. “The colours here? Everything’s a little too bright. Too saturated.”

Arthur stops walking, realising Cobb is right. “He can’t have taken control of the dream that quickly. Eames, get in character.”

“I don’t have a mirror, so I’ll need you to tell me how this is,” Eames says, and his outline flickers for a moment, his solid build replaced by a much shorter, slimmer figure. “How’s this?”

“Apollo Justice,” Daryan growls. “You’re convincing enough for me to want to punch you out.”

“ _Daryan_ ,” Klavier says reproachfully. “That’s not fair. He’s not the one who made you—”

“Yeah,” Daryan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry.”

Klavier pats Daryan on the shoulder, and that seems to be enough. Arthur glances at Eames and nods once in approval of his forge.

“He’ll either be in the lounge or in his study,” Klavier says.

“We’ll find him.” Arthur replies. He and Cobb are both dressed in the uniform of the household staff. “You stay here until I give you the signal. Especially you, Wright. If he notices you, his defences are going to go up immediately.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Phoenix grimaces. The only reason he’s here is to see whatever truths Kristoph’s mind holds for himself. The only reason Cobb and Arthur have allowed it is because it’s the only way they’ll get paid.

“Careful, Arthur,” Eames speaks up suddenly, as Arthur and Cobb turn to the main door. It’s said in Apollo’s voice, but the urgency, the sincerity, is all Eames.

Arthur looks over his shoulder, his brow creased, and nods without a word.

“The architecture isn’t how we planned it,” Cobb says in an undertone as they walk to the house. “The lines are too straight, everything’s just a little too—”

“Perfect,” Arthur finishes grimly. “I noticed. He might not have complete control of the dream just yet, but he’s influencing it. It’s just a matter of whether he’s doing it intentionally. Only one way to find out.”

They push the door of the mansion open, and freeze when they come face to face with Kristoph.

“Hello,” Kristoph greets pleasantly. “I was told to expect company.”

Arthur tenses and Cobb frowns. “By who?”

“Why don’t we invite everyone else in,” Kristoph smiles, “I’ll explain for everyone’s benefit. _Klavier_! Do something useful for once in your life and invite everyone in, why don’t you?”

Klavier jumps and Daryan visibly tenses, reaching for his gun before Klavier stops him with a hand on his wrist. Phoenix walks closer and Eames, still as Apollo, brings up the rear.

“My, what a party,” Kristoph chuckles. “ _Daryan Crescend_. I was so curious to hear that your sentence had suddenly been cut short with no explanation. You may think I’m locked away in my little cell, but I still have eyes and ears everywhere. Imagine my surprise when I hear that there is a plan to _extract_ my thoughts! Assisted by my little brother, no less. Have you not hurt me enough, Klavier?”

“Kristoph,” Klavier says warningly, but it’s no good: his voice is already trembling. Daryan places a hand on his shoulder, and Kristoph laughs.

“So you ran back to my brother like the dog you are, Crescend? Tell me, how does he cope with the fact that he loves a murderer? Or has that love been _killed_?”

Arthur and Cobb frown at each other, unsure of what to do. This is so far out of their control that none of Arthur’s plans apply. Arthur reaches for the gun concealed beneath his jacket, ready to lift it to his temple and abort the entire thing, when a sweet voice cuts through the chaos.

“Oh Kristoph, Kristoph. My sweet little Kris.” A young blonde woman walks toward Kristoph, arms outstretched. Arthur recognises her, at the same time he realises that he cannot see Eames or Apollo.

Kristoph stiffens, but doesn’t look convinced. Arthur waits; he knows that Eames is good at his job, but he wants to see if he’s good enough to pull this off.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Eames wraps his arms around Kristoph, pulling him into a motherly hug. “My darling, you are dreaming.”

“I know, Mama—” Kristoph begins, but Eames hushes him.

“You’re asleep in your chair, Kristoph. You are allowing your paranoia to get the best of you.” It’s so small that Arthur nearly misses it, but he sees the brief hand signal Eames sends his way. It’s something from the time when they’d worked as a team, telling him very simply: _play along_.

“Mama,” Kristoph says warmly, and moves without warning. His hand is around Eames’ throat in an instant, pressing down.

“ _Mama_!” Klavier cries, too caught up to remember that it is just a disguise. “Kristoph, please!”

“Master Kristoph,” Arthur speaks up, forcing his voice to remain calm, his hands remaining at his sides. “You’re distressing your mother, sir. You’ll hurt her—”

“Everything is fine, Kristoph,” Eames chokes out. “C-Come, now. I’ll sing your favourite song to you—”

Eames hums some notes, and Kristoph’s hands ease their grip. Klavier’s eyes are wet and Kristoph takes a step backward, his surprise written clearly on his face.

“This is just a dream,” Eames says, taking another step forward, tilting his head up to kiss Kristoph’s forehead. “Just a dream, my darling. Calm down.”

“Just a dream,” Kristoph repeats. He looks up at the entrance again, but Arthur has already ushered the others out of sight. Only he remains, a cloth in his hands as he polishes a statue by the door. He doesn’t look at Kristoph or Eames, but every part of him is ready to attack at the smallest provocation.

“I’m sorry for your throat,” Kristoph says, and now he sounds like a vulnerable boy. His head is bowed and Eames chuckles, patting his cheek.

“It’s nothing, Kristoph. I’ll drink something for it. You sit down.” Eames glances at Arthur and with a reserved smile, says, “To the kitchen. I’d like something warm.”

“Ma’am,” Arthur intones, following obediently. The kitchen is at the other end of the house and the moment they reach it, Arthur takes Eames’ wrist, pulling him closer with a concerned frown.

“Did he hurt you?” Arthur lifts his fingers to Eames’ neck and the forge drops so that he touches light stubble instead of smooth skin. “Jesus, Eames—”

Eames silences him with a kiss, pressing their lips together briefly but firmly. Arthur melts into it for a moment before jerking his head away, frowning, and Eames sighs quietly.

“It’s not that easy, Eames,” Arthur says, shaking his head. “And Jesus fucking Christ, couldn’t it wait until we _weren’t_ in the middle of a job?”

“No,” Eames mutters, quiet enough that it’s not actually meant for Arthur to hear. “So what now, Mr. Point Man?”

“Cobb should be looking for a safe in Gavin’s study. Crescend should be covering him, and Klavier should be keeping an eye out for anything unusual.”

“Everything’s unusual here,” Eames indicates the room around them, eerily neat and symmetrical. Everything looks far too perfect, to the point that it starts to look _wrong_. Glancing around uncomfortably, Eames adds, “Perhaps we should join the others in the study. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

Arthur nods in agreement, and leads the way. There aren’t any projections—no butlers or maids milling about the mansion—and their absence sets Arthur on edge. He has his gun out and Eames covers him as they walk through the mansion and up the stairs.

“So much for having a plan,” Eames muses. “Pity we couldn’t use the dog. Such a sweet little thing.”

“Eames, please,” Arthur sighs. “Shut up.”

“You really need to dislodge that stick up your arse,” Eames mutters, patting Arthur on the shoulder.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Arthur hisses, grabbing Eames’ hand and twisting. “Just don’t.”

“Of course.” Eames smiles mirthlessly, yanking free of Arthur’s grip, trying not to dwell on the feeling of their hands against each other.

The rest of the walk to the study is silent. Arthur purposefully walks two steps further head of Eames, and Eames lets him—until Arthur reaches the open door of the study. The expression on Arthur’s face is surprised for a brief moment before going blank, and that’s enough to make Eames catch up as quickly as he can.

“That was a very nice trick,” Kristoph says, sitting at his desk. Klavier, Daryan, Phoenix and Cobb are all standing in the corner of the room, but Kristoph doesn’t seem to have harmed any of them. Motioning to the door, he smiles. “Come in, both of you. I’d like to speak with you all. Surely, you didn’t enter my mind without knowing that I’m familiar with shared dreaming. The trick your shape-shifting friend there played on me was quite convincing, I must say. It took me a while to realise that you weren’t all projections of my own imagination.”

Turning to Klavier and Phoenix, his smile grows predatory. “You’re after my secrets, hm? Well, never let it be said that I am not a gracious host. I’ll show you exactly what you’re here for. I hope it breaks you.”

Standing, Kristoph walks to the door of his study. The corridor behind them has become bare; a long stretch of concrete floor with countless doors, hanging open, their wood decaying. He addresses the others without looking back at them, walking to the first door. “ _Now_ , you are in my mind.”

Arthur waits for Phoenix and Klavier to move first before falling into step with them. Cobb follows reluctantly, but Eames stays beside Arthur, his gun gripped tightly.

“This is…” Cobb begins, looking at the doors. He doesn’t say any more, but Arthur knows. Cobb had, at the insistence of Ariadne, told Arthur all about the memories he’d kept of Mal, storing her inside his mind. He’d learned to let that go, but Arthur still hasn’t entirely forgiven him for it.

For Cobb to make the parallel, Arthur realises that whatever these memories hold, it’s the very core of what Kristoph is.

“Is this not the easiest extraction you’ve ever had to do?” Kristoph asks cheerfully. “I’m doing all the work for you. Now that you’ve caught up, let’s start at this one.”

He pushes the first door open a little wider and steps through. The others have little choice but to follow.

They step into a well-lit, richly decorated room that Arthur immediately recognises as the sitting room of this very mansion, with the exception that it looks like it’s actually lived in. There is a woman sitting on the couch and for a moment, Arthur thinks _Eames_ , but this is a memory of Kristoph’s mother. She is heavily pregnant and Klavier takes a step forward, barely aware of his surroundings. “Mama…”

“You’re going to have a little brother, Kristoph. You must be a good brother. Treat him well. Little brothers are precious, ja?”

There is a young boy kneeling at her feet and his excited voice overlaps with Kristoph saying the words, as if they’re ingrained in his mind: “Yes, Mama. Little brothers are precious.”

“What does that mean?” Klavier asks, as the room begins the fade, losing colour and detail until it is empty and featureless. “Are you saying that _I_ started it?”

“I’m merely showing you my memories,” Kristoph smiles, and it looks just as terrifying on his face as a snarl. “I’ll leave you to interpret them. I can’t make it _too_ easy now, can I?”

Kristoph continues walking to the next door, and Klavier follows. The rest are just a step behind.

“You’re in this one, too,” Kristoph says, the sitting room looking slightly different, this time. There are toys strewn all over the floor and a younger Kristoph sits on the couch with a large book and a serious expression. Beside him sits—

“Holy shit, that’s you,” Daryan murmurs. He is right; the Klavier in this memory is three and is looking at his brother with clear adoration. It doesn’t matter that Kristoph ignores him, Klavier sits there and watches, waiting patiently for his brother’s attention.

“You were always like this,” Kristoph says, from his corner of the room. “You would look up to me. Adore me. You’d do anything I’d say, Klavier, what changed?”

“I grew up,” Klavier says with a grim smile. “And I thought that you were going to leave the interpretation up to me.”

“I just wanted to remind you of how things were. How things could have been, if not for your poor taste in friends.”

“You talking about me?” Daryan cracks his knuckles threateningly, taking a step forward.

“Making friends with Daryan is the best thing I’ve ever done,” Klavier snaps. “ _Daryan_ is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m who I am because—”

“So you’re admitting,” Kristoph cuts in, “That this one person— _the best thing_ you’ve ever had is someone who turned around, betrayed you and became a murderer?”

The colour drains from Daryan’s face. Arthur and Eames glance warily at each other, but Klavier laughs. There is a bitter edge to it, but he does sound amused.

“Your mind games aren’t going to work on me forever, Kristoph. I’ve talked things out with Daryan, and you aren’t going to make me turn on him just by reminding me there’s blood on his hands. Maybe things aren’t _perfect_ but I think you should remember how much blood there is on _your_ hands, first.”

“Do you know?” Kristoph asks suddenly. The room stills, which immediately sets Arthur on edge, but then it begins to fade away, just like the previous memory. Kristoph is looking at Klavier with a serious expression. “Do you have any idea how much blood there is on my hands? Do you _want_ to, Klavier? Is that why you’re here? Wright?”

Phoenix visibly tenses, but Kristoph turns away, leaving the room without giving him a chance to reply.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Eames speaks up. Everyone turns to him and he shrugs, though he looks at Arthur when he continues, “The memories we’ve seen so far are tame enough, but we all know how this story ends. He’s far too lucid for us to trick and forgive me for looking a gift-horse in the mouth, but I’m certain that there’s something unpleasant waiting among all these memories.”

“It’s not my call,” Arthur says, looking at Phoenix, at Klavier.

“I need to know,” is all Phoenix can say, and Klavier nods in mute agreement.

Eames sighs, but says nothing as the two of them lead the way to the next room.

“I think you’re right,” Arthur says, lingering beside Eames. “I don’t like this. Nothing’s under our control, no matter how well we planned. If this were any other job, we’d kick ourselves out, call it a failure and run for it. Like you said before, Gavin can’t even come after us and we don’t have to worry about Limbo. We’re just stuck here anyway, because of Wright and Klavier. I really don’t like this, Eames.”

“They deserve the truth,” Eames shrugs, resigned. “They’ve both been through enough that it would be unfair for them to come this close only to fail.”

Arthur nods, and waits for Eames to follow before going to the next room.

“You’re late,” Kristoph greets, as they walk in on a scene with younger versions of Klavier and Daryan playing the guitar. It’s clear that Klavier has never played before and his laughter fills the room when he messes up a chord.

“This is great. I’ve only ever played the piano before. Get it, _klavier_ , like my name?”

“Funny,” Daryan grins. “You gonna show me, then?”

The younger Klavier takes Daryan by the wrist and leads him off. Arthur glances at the real versions, not entirely surprised to find their fingers are interlaced. His attention snaps back to the memory when a younger Kristoph walks into sigh, with his mother. If Klavier and Daryan were in their early teens, Kristoph would have been in his early twenties. If not for the pale skin and sharp suit, he would look exactly like Klavier.

“Mama, why is that boy here? What is he doing, teaching Klavier how to play guitar? Send him home, he doesn’t belong here.”

“No, Kristoph,” she says gently. “You’ve always been possessive of Klavier, but it’s time he made his own friends, without you scaring them away. It was bad enough when his sixth grade class was too afraid to even look at him.”

“That was your doing?” Klavier asks, rounding on Kristoph with his hands balled into fists.

“I tried it with Daryan, too,” Kristoph smiles. “First with money, then with threats.”

“ _What_?”

“Didn’t work though, did it? You fuck,” Daryan snarls.

“Unfortunately, it didn’t.” Kristoph gives Klavier an earnest look. “I could have protected you from him. I always knew he was bad for you. That he’d end up hurting you.”

“ _You can’t talk_!” both Klavier and Daryan yell in unison and look at each other, squeezing each other’s hands.

All signs of amusement disappear from Kristoph’s face. “Don’t you see, Klavier? Our own mother told me to treat you as something precious to me—and then proceeded to tell me off each and every time I _did_. Then you would treat me as though I was the greatest person in all existence, only to forget about me the moment you had your own friends. What was I to do?”

Klavier looks back at the memory playing itself out in front of them; Kristoph is arguing with their mother, his face a mask of cold fury, and looks away, shaking his head as it begins to fade.

“Moving along,” Kristoph barks, all the humour gone from his voice. Phoenix looks wary, but Klavier balls his free hand into a fist, gripping Daryan’s hand tighter with the other, and follows his brother.

“Arthur?” Cobb looks just as far out of his depth as Arthur feels.

“They’re getting their answers. We’re here to keep an eye on them.”

“You’re the dreamer, can’t you control these… memory rooms?”

Arthur shakes his head. “That’s like asking me to control your projection of Mal, just because it’s my dream.”

Cobb grimaces. “Right.”

Kristoph is waiting for everyone outside the door. Cobb wordlessly goes to stand between Phoenix and Klavier, and Arthur notices with an unpleasant jolt that the grin is back on Kristoph’s face.

“I promise this will be fun.” Kristoph pushes the door open all the way and walks inside.

They’re in Kristoph’s study again. He doesn’t look much older than in the previous memory, and he’s sitting at his desk with a glass of wine. There’s a toolbox sitting in front of him, along with a small pile of textbooks on the same subject; the mechanics of cars.

Klavier looks around with a frown, but Daryan’s eyes widen with shock, already grabbing for his gun with one hand.

The Kristoph in the memory turned the wall-mounted television on, and settles back with a small smile as the voice of a news reporter comes from the speakers:

“Reports say that Peter and Caroline Gavin have been killed in a tragic, three-car accident earlier tonight. Police are treating their deaths as suspicious, as initial investigations have indicated that the brakes of their Mercedes have been tampered with—”

“ _No_!” Klavier cries. His eyes are wide and already welling up with tears. “No. Tell me this isn’t true. You didn’t…”

“Are you asking me to lie to you brother? I thought you were better than that—”

“ _How could you_?”

“For you, Klavier. So you would _need me_. And it worked, didn’t it? This was just the beginning.”

“No,” Klavier moans brokenly, covering his ears with his hands. “No more.”

Before Kristoph can say any more, a gunshot rings out, followed by a body falling to the floor. All eyes in the room turn to Daryan, who holds his gun in a white-knuckled grip.

Kristoph smiles. “I’m surprised, Crescend. Does it get easier to shoot someone when you’ve already done it once?”

Daryan spits in Kristoph’s direction. “Shut the fuck up. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t fucking deserve this.”

“And yet he somehow deserves you?” Kristoph raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“The _only_ reason I’m not emptying my gun into your head right now is because you’re still useful to the others. But I’ve had enough of this.”

Daryan lifts his gun to his own head and looks at Arthur, waiting for the small nod of approval before he pulls the trigger again.

Phoenix turns away, covering his mouth with a hand. Eames pats his shoulder. “Relax, mate. They just woke up.”

“Well, then.” Kristoph looks unperturbed as the room fades around them. “Shall we continue?”

Phoenix hesitates, turning to Eames before he follows.

“Daryan will be taking care of Klavier,” Eames explains quietly. “Edgeworth might be a little concerned, but I’m sure Daryan will explain what’s going on.”

Arthur remains silent, and follows Phoenix. There’s nothing else to do.

Eames’ earlier prediction proves to be correct. The memories now are far darker; they see Kristoph mastering his ability to manipulate those around him, keeping Klavier on as short a leash as he can manage while controlling others with subtle mind games, with his charm. There’s a memory of Kristoph intimidating his way up through the law firm he works at, threats veiled by compliments, convincing others to do work he doesn’t want to. There are memories of his techniques to collect evidence; using blackmail and coercion to get his information, culminating in one terrifying memory of a witness bound with a gag hanging around their neck, strapped down to a chair and covered in cuts made by a bloody scalpel held loosely in Kristoph’s hand.

“I remember this case,” Phoenix says weakly. “The key witness was found dead after being tortured and… ugh. And you. Gavin, you were defending the killer.”

“I don’t like losing cases,” Kristoph smirks. “Once I knew the witness’ testimony would spell a guilty verdict for my client… well, I couldn’t let him testify now, could I?”

Phoenix shudders, looking like he’s about to throw up. Arthur, Eames and Cobb are all so distracted by their concern for Phoenix that Kristoph takes them by surprise when he grabs Arthur, arms pinned back, a small knife held to his throat.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Eames yells, but Kristoph is pulling Arthur through a hidden door already, disappearing from sight.

“I’m told that you’re a fan of paradoxes,” Kristoph laughs, stepping out into what Arthur immediately identifies as Klavier’s old music room. It’s mostly empty of instruments now, but the soundproofing remains.

“I’m sure you realise there’s no point in screaming,” Kristoph says pleasantly. “But I look forward to hearing it anyway. I understand that if I weren’t suppressing them at the moment, my projections would be tearing you limb from limb, because I’m aware it’s _your_ dream I am in. Luckily for you, the memory I just showed you has reminded me that I am only too willing to rip you apart in their place. It’s all me in the end anyway, is it not?”

 

•

 

When Eames realises that the hidden door Kristoph has taken Arthur through has resealed itself, he sees red.

“Eames!” Cobb calls after him as he leaves the room. “Eames, _wait_!”

“We’re trapped here” Eames realises, looking at the rotting doors that sway and creak in a non-existent breeze, stretching out on either side of them. He grabs Cobb by the collar and yanks him closer. “You were an architect. Fix this. Put it back to how it was.”

“Eames, we don’t even know where he’s taken Arthur. They might be awake right now.”

“If Arthur was, he’d wake me,” Eames growls. “Now change it back.”

In a quick moment, they’re standing outside Kristoph’s study once again and all the doors are gone. Eames dreams up a gun for each hand and turns to Cobb and Phoenix, who both look stunned.

“If you’ve had enough, get out of here. But do _not_ wake Kristoph until I’ve found him.”

Phoenix looks as though he’d very much like to leave, but Cobb shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you down here by yourself.”

“Suit yourself.”

Eames frowns in concentration, relaxing when he hears a dog coming around the corner.

“Vongole,” he says, and she turns to him immediately, tail wagging. “I’ve no idea if this is going to work, but—find him.”

Vongole wags her tail again and for a moment, it seems like she hasn’t understood. Then, she sets off at a brisk trot and Eames follows behind her, down the main staircase and through the house, past the sitting room and the kitchen, around to a room at the very end of the house. Its door is shut and Eames can hear nothing on the other side. He frowns, looking at the dog. “You’re sure.”

Vongole whimpers and that’s good enough for Eames to at least have a try. He shoots at the door knob, pushing at the door and then pushing harder when he realises how heavy it is. “A little help?”

Cobb and Phoenix both hurry to help. The sound of something scraping against the floor tells them that there’s something heavy in the way, and that they have the right room.

“Arthur!” Eames yells, once the door is open wide enough for him to slip through, stumbling past the stack of amplifiers blocking the way.

Arthur is leaning against the wall, hand pressed to a knife wound in his side and his nose bleeding. Kristoph is in a much worse state; his entire face is bruised and bloody. He has a hand against the wall, struggling to stay upright and Eames has his gun in his hand before he even realises. He fires two shots, one for each kneecap, and Kristoph goes down screaming.

“I’ve seen enough,” Phoenix’s voice trembles, and so does the hand reaching for the gun Eames had discarded on the floor.

“Cobb,” Eames says, and Cobb responds immediately, shooting Phoenix through the forehead before waking himself up as well.

“Shoot him,” Arthur murmurs, looking at Kristoph.

Eames shakes his head. “Let him suffer. Fuck, Arthur, I was so afraid.”

“You forgot who he was dealing with.” Arthur grins, and his teeth are red. “So did he. Idiot. Why didn’t you just wake me up?”

“I wasn’t going to leave you,” Eames replies. “I’m not making that mistake ever again, if you let me.”

Arthur’s gaze snaps to Eames’ face. “Are you talking about—”

“Yes, Arthur.” Eames looks away before forcing himself to meet Arthur’s eyes. “I left you at the worst possible time and you have every right to hate me for it.”

“Well, I did,” Arthur says, and when Eames flinches, he repeats, “ _did_.”

“During the Fischer job,” Eames says carefully, “I swear, it was almost like I had you again and then when you left… Christ, I deserved that.”

“Yeah, well,” Arthur braces one arm against the wall so he can stand a little straighter, a little closer to Eames. “I’m not going anywhere, now.”

“Is that so?” Eames asks with a small grin. Kristoph is still making pained sounds in the background, but Eames filters it out, filters everything out except for the way Arthur slowly leans into him, pressing his lips to Eames’. It’s just the chaste brush of Arthur’s lips against his, but then Arthur kisses him firmly, winding his fingers into Eames’ hair. Arthur’s mouth tastes of blood, but Eames doesn’t care, pressing himself closer.

Arthur breaks the kiss with a small, pained sound and Eames pulls away, apologising, his eyes on Arthur’s bleeding wound.

“I think it’s time we get out of here,” Arthur murmurs, a gun already in his hand. “Ready?”

Eames nods, and the last thing he hears before he wakes are the words, “I love you.”

 

•

 

Edgeworth has an academic paper to work on, but doesn’t even have the chance to make a start on it. Barely fives minutes have passed before Klavier wakes, gasping, his fingers scrabbling for something to hold onto.

“Klavier…?” Edgeworth’s concerned voice is drowned out by Daryan, waking up just a moment later.

“ _Klavier_. Klavier, Klavier, look at me, man.” Daryan pulls the needle from his own wrist and once he can get Klavier to stay still for long enough, does the same for him as well.

“What happened?” Edgeworth asks, already afraid for Phoenix.

“Lost control of the dream,” Daryan replies, not looking away from Klavier. “Someone tipped him off or something. He knew what we were there for and he—”

“He killed them, Daryan,” Klavier’s voice trembles and there are tears streaming down his cheeks. “He _killed_ his own parents.”

Edgeworth stiffens at the words. “What…?”

“He was showing us memories. All the things he’d done.” Daryan frowns, squeezing his eyes shut and taking Klavier’s hand. “Look, maybe someone else can explain. Right now, Klavier…”

“Yes,” Edgeworth clears his throat. “Yes, of course.”

He looks away when Daryan wraps his arms around Klavier, turning to Phoenix’s sleeping form.

“He was doing okay when we left,” Daryan says quietly, and Edgeworth nods in appreciation.

It doesn’t take much longer before Phoenix wakes too, his blue eyes wide and terrified.

“Phoenix,” Edgeworth places a hand on his shoulder, calming him down. He’s vaguely aware of Cobb sitting up, of Klavier still sobbing brokenly, but his attention is focused on Phoenix, who looks like he’s just woken from the worst nightmare of his life. “I’m right here.”

“Miles.” Phoenix sits up, letting Edgeworth unhook him from the PASIV before leaning into his arms, clinging to him.

“Arthur? Eames?” Edgeworth asks, looking at Cobb.

“Just give them a while.” Cobb doesn’t look concerned as he begins winding the IV lines back into the PASIV case, so Edgeworth decides he doesn’t need to worry.

Soon, Arthur and Eames wake, silently getting to their feet and straight to work.

“We’ll need to debrief everyone,” Arthur says, as Eames speaks with the guards, arranging for them to move Kristoph back to his cell before he wakes.

“Right you are, Arthur. Perhaps we should get back to Wright’s office for that?” Eames crosses the room and helps Arthur pack everything away, their fingers brushing far more than necessary. “We’d better do that quickly, too. I have the feeling that both Klavier and Wright got more than they bargained for.”

The change in location helps. Daryan is less antsy now that he’s away from the prison, the familiarity of his offices causes Phoenix to relax and everyone finds comfort in the fact that they’re away from the cold, featureless interview room.

Cobb has tried his best to explain things to Edgeworth on the way, but nothing truly prepares him for the horror he feels when Arthur describes the endless doors of memories and what they’d seen.

Klavier looks shattered, but Daryan does his best to hold him together, calming him down as Arthur recounts the memories in sequence. Phoenix looks worn by the time Arthur reaches the memory of Kristoph killing his parents, and only looks worse from there.

“He kidnapped me,” Arthur says matter-of-factly. “He made an attempt to torture me, but… well, I’m the better fighter.”

“Damn right,” Eames murmurs fondly, which brings a hint of a smile to Arthur’s lips. He picks up the explanation, “And so we found them in Klavier’s old music room. Arthur had already done a number of Gavin, so I made sure he wouldn’t get up again.”

“And somewhere along the way, I realised I couldn’t handle it,” Phoenix adds quietly. He leans against Edgeworth and grimaces. “You were right all along. You told me I wouldn’t like what I’d find in there…”

“Well, that doesn’t make it any less necessary,” Edgeworth replies gently. “You did what you had to. Just remember that.”

Phoenix nods, relaxing when he feels Edgeworth’s arm wrap around his shoulders. “I’ve had a taste of the truths locked away in Kristoph’s head and that’s enough for me. I don’t need to uncover every single truth I come across. I think the best way to deal with Kristoph Gavin is to stay the hell away from him.”

“Thank God.” Edgeworth is so relieved that he kisses Phoenix full on the lips, right there. “I think that’s best. _Thank you_.”

Phoenix gives him a mirthless smile. “I don’t think Klavier is going to be thanking me any time soon, though. There are some things you just never need to know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Edgeworth murmurs, tilting his head as he looks across the room at Klavier, who has his head resting on Daryan’s shoulder, their arms around each other. “I watched the _State vs. Misham_ recording several times, Phoenix, and I noticed that as upset as Klavier was by the accusations made against his brother, he never once seemed _surprised_ by them. Perhaps it’s hope, perhaps it’s flat out denial that kept them at the back of his mind, but regardless, I think that Klavier has always known, on some level.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m the reason he knows it for a fact now.” Phoenix sighs tiredly. “I don’t think I’d forgive me, if I were in his shoes.”

“Phoenix, you hunt for the truth. That’s who you are, and it’s what you do. Without you, I wouldn’t ever have found out who killed my father. Do you think I hate you for that? Do you think that Maya resents you for finding out that Godot killed her mother?”

“Those situations were entirely different—”

“Phoenix, please.” Edgeworth kisses him again. “Just shut up and accept that you’ve done something good, regardless of how much it may hurt Klavier now. Besides, look around you. Before this job, Klavier wouldn’t even think about being in the same room as Daryan. And I remember you telling me how badly Arthur reacted to seeing Eames here. If not for this job, I doubt any of that would have changed.”

Phoenix looks; Arthur and Eames are sitting beside each other and perhaps they’re not the type for public displays of affection, or perhaps they’re holding back for Cobb’s sake, but Eames still has a possessive hand on Arthur’s hip, and Arthur has his fingers curled loosely around Eames’ wrist as they speak quietly.

“Sometimes, you need to be happy with the small victories. You may not feel like you’ve won, but in the end, you’ve still achieved something important. I learned that from being in court with you.”

This brings a big, genuine smile to Phoenix’s face and he pulls Edgeworth closer, into a kiss. “You’re right, Miles. Thank you.”


End file.
